


Instincts Come to Call

by Dirtcore Dreams (Dream_tempo)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha Derek, Armpit Kink, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Sharing, Come Swallowing, Established Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Incest, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Mating Rituals, Parent/Child Incest, Polyamory Negotiations, Power Dynamics, Prostate Milking, Sloppy Makeouts, Sloppy Seconds, Snowballing, Territorial Derek, Threesome - M/M/M, Watersports, Wet & Messy, musk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 16:17:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_tempo/pseuds/Dirtcore%20Dreams
Summary: Gael's a bit of a deadbeat dad, cycled around from house to house until he's finally left at Derek and Stiles' doorstep. Tensions start to rise as old wounds are poked at and new dynamics cause friction. It all boils over in an entirely unexpected way.





	Instincts Come to Call

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda got prompted this situation a little, or at least this threesome pairing with a list of kinks. And I started writing this a long time ago before life got a little too busy. Decided to revisit it to see if there was anything worth keeping and I hope y'all agree with my decision to give it a proper ending and ship it out. 
> 
> Lemme know what you think! Hope the long break doesn't account for any shifts in tone or breaks in internal consistency. 
> 
> ALSO! V. IMPORTANT. Don't you dare picture Joe Mangianello in this, ya fools! Taylor Kinney's been getting daddy af if you haven't been paying attention and that's the true Papa Hale that should be in your hearts and minds. I will accept no other.

“Babe, you  _ know  _ my dad’s old fashioned, we talked about it before he came to stay.” Derek, to his credit, does look immensely apologetic and awkward, but Stiles can’t help staying at least a little pissy about it. 

“He swatted my ass and called me sugar and asked when dinner was gonna be served.” They’d both accepted that the ex-Hale patriarch was always gonna be a bit of a deadbeat, that if they didn’t outright house him, they’d be taking care of him for the rest of their lives. Laura had already tossed him out for good, there was no way Talia was inviting him back into her life after a decade of their divorce, and Cora was too transient to be much of a help. Thing was, they both cared about family too much to leave him out to dry. 

“He’s just overcompensating. He knew he wasn’t the alpha of the house with my mom around and since I technically am of ours, he thinks that puts you bottom of the totem pole, the bitch.” Stiles got over being appalled with this sort of terminology and speech a long time ago, came with the territory of marrying a werewolf. He just can’t believe there’s still some of them that buy into it beyond instinct. “All you have to do is put him in his place.  _ He’s  _ the guest in our house. You’re my mate. Even with his logic, that puts you above him. Don’t let him bully you around.” 

Stiles wouldn’t call it bullying, per se. That was the thing about Derek’s dad, he was never malicious. Gael was a charmer through and through— a high school shooting star that never quite lost his sheen. You could see why Talia used to love him, see why his kids still did, see why the man never had much of a problem getting by in his life. He was still boyishly endearing, with the handsomeness of a full grown man. A real dangerous combination. 

And the really annoying part was that Stiles saw a lot of his husband in Gael. When they’d met, Derek had been the same way— cocky, goofy, immature, listlessly romantic. That trope of hispanic lotharios had drawn Stiles in easy. How was a love starved, awkward kid supposed to stand up to the charms of an upperclassman that whispered Neruda into his ear while groping his dick? 

Of course they’d had their growing pains. Stiles was needy and insecure and jealous. Derek couldn’t take anything seriously, didn’t want to settle down, thought a quick fuck could fix anything. Their college years were… tumultuous to say the least. But they’d made it through, because despite everything, turned out they genuinely loved each other, who’d’a thunk? 

Derek was still the same guy, years later, but mellowed out— domestic and content and deliciously chubby. So to be thrown right back into the deep end when Gael came to stay was jarring to say the least. Stiles wasn’t just pissed about being expected to be the sweet little housewife, he had confusing, upsetting flashbacks to Derek treating him the same way. 

Being treated like that, talked to that way made him on edge because it both ate at him and turned him on. The memory of cooking Derek meals to get him to come over, let Stiles blow him, convince him to stay the night were right under the surface. That old skin of groveling for every piece of affection, and Derek thinking it was a fun, sordid, little game they were playing seemed to itch along his skin again. 

He admitted to finding it erotic when Derek made him clean the apartment in nothing but panties and thigh-highs, while lounging on the couch in a ratty, sweaty tank, stroking himself under his nylon shorts. He liked being bossed around, liked Derek’s smug attitude as Stiles moaned at the smell and taste of his musky balls. He liked having his throat fucked, his face painted with cum, Derek’s eyes glowing as he told Stiles to stick out his tongue and then relieved himself. 

But that was a thing he thought they’d left behind along with all the other ridiculous behavior. He still liked to lick Derek’s pits and Derek still liked to spank him, but they were a married couple now, they pretty much fucked missionary two or three times a week and did the occasional Sunday brunch b-jay. Sometimes for birthdays or promotions or something, Stiles would break out the collar and leash Derek liked. Derek would put one of his jockstraps over Stiles’ face and edge him until he was crying. 

Stiles found himself thinking he might want more— more filth, more often— but he wondered if that would come at the expense of the progress they’d made. If he let treat him like the bitch in bed, would that spill over into their everyday life? If he asked Derek to piss on him again, how long would it be before Derek was the one expecting three course meals and footrubs and Stiles only speaking when spoken to? 

So maybe he was taking a little of his nervous frustrations out on Gael, so what? They were housing and feeding the guy for the foreseeable future, Stiles thought it was a pretty acceptable payoff. “Couldn’t you just say something to him? I mean, if you’re supposed to be the alpha of the house, won’t he listen to you?” Stiles had sent the man in question to the corner store with a couple bills too many to pick up his favorite beer. Apparently Gael just couldn’t go an evening meal without it and Stiles hadn’t gotten the memo. It was the only reason they could have this little tiff without the prying senses of another wolf. 

Derek scoffs, rolls his eyes at him even as he paws at Stiles’ shirt to drag him closer, between Derek’s legs where he’s sitting on the edge of their bed. “I’m his  _ son.  _ He’ll never treat me like I’m above him. He called me  _ chiquitito  _ and pinched the tip of my dick until I was in my twenties.” That’s never something Stiles will be able to forget. It’s one of the first things that actually started to change their dynamic. 

Up until then, Derek had been king of the campus— the coolest, hottest, most untouchable dude Stiles had ever met. He’d been given the ultimate gift of getting to meet Derek’s family, because he’d let Derek spitroast him with a frat buddy in exchange, and he was wholly unprepared to see his kind of, sort of boyfriend treated like the bratty kid brother and sensitive son. Laura gave Derek noogies. Cora pestered him with embarrassing childhood stories. His mother forcibly washed gel out of his hair in the kitchen sink and groomed his eyebrows, called him tenderhearted. 

Then there was Gael. Just starting out the separation period with his wife and not really understanding that that meant he wasn’t supposed to be around all the time. He teased Derek about his buck teeth, asked honestly lewd questions about how often he was getting some and how he was getting it, wrestled him until they broke something, tried to instigate belching contests and insisted on being shirtless almost all the time. Oh, and when he was annoyed with Derek, pointedly called him  _ chiquitito  _ and then reached out to pinch his son’s dick. 

The veneer was cracked. Derek was just a guy, like any other. Stiles suddenly realized he deserved to be treated better. He also suddenly understood Derek better, and maybe, at that point, started to love him. A secretly insecure boy a little lost in the shuffle of his bustling, boisterous family. No wonder. 

“Awww,  _ pobrecito. _ ” Stiles grinned down at Derek as his husband made the most ridiculous pouty face, playing into the little scene. Stiles’ pronunciation still wasn’t great, but he’d made a point of trying to pick up colloquial phrases from his ambient family time as well as doing some serious Rosetta Stone to try and have actual, sensical conversations with Derek’s nana. It thrilled Derek every time and Stiles would take night courses at the community college forever if it earned him that surprised, loving grin. 

“It’s  _ embarrassing!”  _ Derek’s kiddish whine was only half faked as he hugged Stiles around his middle, burying his face in Stiles’ belly and nosing at the thick happy trail. “You’re the only one that ever stayed after seeing it. Everyone else dumped me that night.” 

“Mmm, guess that’s why you put a ring on it, huh?” Stiles chuckled fondly as he ran his hands through Derek’s hair, scritching at his scalp to try and get the wolf to do those pleased, little growls he loved so much. After a nice, long minute of them grounding themselves in each other, Stiles gently tugged at Derek’s hair to get him to turn his face up, brushing a thumb over his cheek as they stared at each other. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a brat. I just kinda forgot how… present your dad is when he’s around. Doesn’t take much for him to make himself at home.” 

Derek shook his head softly, the grit of his scruff scratching Stiles’ sensitive stomach and making him shiver, just a little. “Don’t be sorry— he’s an ass, we both know it— and I don’t want to make excuses for him or anything, I just… want this to work. He’d never let anyone know, but I think he’s lonely. He hasn’t really been welcome anywhere for a long time. 

Even when he and my mom were still together, they’d been at odds for a long time. I think having Cora wasn’t even because they were still wanting each other, it was their last attempt at making it work. He’s been tossed around like a burden for years now and it’s kind of his own fault, but I can’t help feeling bad for him anyway.” 

Stiles hummed, bending down to kiss and kiss and kiss his husband, sweet and chaste. “You really are, just stupidly sweet. You know that, right?” Stiles tugged on Derek’s ears a little, nuzzling their noses and loving the way Derek ducked his head, blushing. “It’s good that you want to take care of him, I’d be upset if you didn’t. You were there when my dad relapsed and cleaned his puke off the bathroom floor more times than I can count— I think I can handle yours goosing me and asking for pancakes and bacon in the morning.” 

Derek let out a rambunctious, little growl even as he grinned up at Stiles, suddenly gripping him tightly and pulling him into his lap. “Neither of you better get used to it. That ass is mine.” Stiles laughed as Derek playfully mauled him, oh-so-gently scraping teeth over collar bones, manhandling his thighs, scratching at his belly. 

“That so? You gonna mount me at the kitchen sink so he knows not to infringe on your property?” Derek’s growls instantly drop an octave and Stiles gasps as a warm, wet tongue is suddenly sliding over skin. The hands get firmer, teeth sharper, Derek starts to snuffle down near his crotch. 

“Don’t tempt me. Dad’s always been pigheaded and it’s not like that’s not a thing. Wolves used to consummate their mating in front of the pack all the time, part of the claiming ritual.” Stiles still remembers their night together— Derek animalistic, slavering, red-eyed and furry bodied. He wears the bite scar on his shoulder proudly, loving when summer comes around and he can display it under tanktops for the world to see. The idea of getting it in front of a crowd— of Derek’s preternaturally gorgeous family watching him get bit and clawed and  _ fucked _ . Well, that’s one more complex, weirdly appealing thing to shuffle away for a later date. Especially since Derek’s growing… fervor seems to imply a similar interest. 

Derek’s just gotten to his bush, is nosing and licking his way through it to reach the root of Stiles’ cock when they both hear the door burst open, Gael tromping his way through the entry. “You boys better put that dicking on hold! The beer’s here and I don’t want that ham in the oven getting dry just because Derek doesn’t know how to nut before he knots.” 

Derek groans in a decidedly different way than just seconds before and buries his face in Stiles’ body. The ruddy red of his ears tells Stiles he’s totally mortified and that soothes the sting of being cockblocked, at least a little. “Oh?” Stiles teases, tugging at Derek’s lobes as his husband tries to burrow deeper and deeper. “Didn’t know that was a prior issue. I thought you were just  _ super  _ into me or something.” 

Derek groans again and Gael brays a laugh from down the hall. “We knew exactly when Derek lost his virginity because he suddenly couldn’t come down to dinner for an hour. Needless to say his  _ study date  _ was too embarrassed to continue their sessions the rest of the year. Good thing it was a guy too,  _ pendejo  _ didn’t know he needed special condoms or else they’d burst. Jordan went waddling out of that house like he’d shit himself.” 

Derek groaned even louder and more aggressively and Stiles winced in sympathy for that poor kid. He’d been slimed by Derek, of course, he actually loved it. Derek did too. In fact, he often got to spend a good, long time with Derek down there afterward… tidying him up. But he was not a virgin and a teenager and in his boyfriend’s parents’ house. It took a whole night to drip dry, as it were. He’d die if he had to walk home like that. 

“Don’t let him bully you babe.” Stiles couldn’t help the final jab, patting Derek on the shoulder in consolation as he stood up, adjusted himself a little, and prepared for a dinner where he’s sure Gael would find plenty of opportunities to make innuendos about pork. “I’m sure he’s just—  overcompensating for something.” 

Gael is… certainly something. There's no denying that in the wake of him. For one thing, you'd never guess his age. He's got that sexy DILF thing going on where grey’s feathering through the hair at his temples and his beard, but aside from that, everything pegs him as younger. Still tanned and toned, a boyish smile accentuated by a small gap in his teeth, clear, bright eyes, always full of energy and idiotic jokes. He wears baja hoodies, rubber sandals, and quite notably swim trunks as shorts. Undergarments nowhere in sight. He's obviously a bit old for the full schtick, but in that way that's acceptable in California, a surfer bro that got to keep living the life. It's not evident yet that he's officially turning into deadbeat territory. 

If Stiles had met  _ him  _ instead of Derek, they definitely still would have fucked. It's a fact that's gone unstated, but definitely not unnoticed in the few weeks since this new arrangement. Evident first in the old photos around the house with Derek looking like he could be Gael’s brother instead of his son, then becoming more tangible as their time spent together highlighted their similar behaviors. 

Little phrases, gestures, the things they preferred, the things they didn’t. Stiles had always been told Derek was a mama’s boy, but it seemed as though that came from already being a carbon copy of his dad. It got Stiles a little… mixed up. Especially with they way they were always swapping in and out, holding erratic schedules that never left Stiles sure of who he’d be sharing the house with at any time. 

He’d accidentally given Gael morning pecks on the lips, called him babe, and even, memorably, spent a full five minutes, brushing, flossing, and rinsing his mouth out while  _ Gael  _ was in the shower, not Derek. He’d noticed when he turned to ask Derek a question and found the older Hale standing with cocked eyebrows and a sly grin, waiting for Stiles to see him through the glass. And  _ boy,  _ was there a lot to see. 

He felt flustered all the time, which he blamed on Gael. Every little accident was met with cocky smiles, suggestive hums, waggled eyebrows. Stiles told himself, logically, it was just supposed to be playful, but his heart and cock didn’t get the message. Which  _ everyone  _ was aware of. Ah, one of the oldest perks in the book for living with werewolves. 

Any time your dick jumped in your shorts and a little pre beaded at the tip, there was no hiding it, not for a second. It just egged Gael on, especially because Derek was visibly grumpy about it. Furrowed brows and tight lips and possessive hands suddenly on his husband. Another thing that was not helping Stiles get it under control. 

He kind of  _ loved  _ being fought over like a piece of juicy meat. At least, for sex reasons. He doesn’t appreciate being treated like a prize in general, but when two hot guys are getting all aggressive because they both wanna breed him? Well that’s perfectly okay in his book, long as they treat him right after. 

It’s the biggest tension in the house. Having Gael around has transitioned pretty smoothly, safe for that. He still wants to be top dog, aka the dog that tops them all. Derek didn’t think that was a funny joke, but Stiles still insists it’s the most accurate way to describe the situation. And it’s not like it’s subtle either. Sex talk has always been on the table for the Hales, even Talia, Laura, and Cora didn’t spare Stiles from the prying, intimate questions. 

“Your bitch has  _ needs  _ Derek, and clearly you’re not meeting them. A man has his duties, doesn’t Stiles deserve to be fulfilled?  _ Chulo,  _ I can smell the blue balls on you a mile a way, if you’re not gonna empty them in your boy, at least take to your hand in the shower.” This combined with the way he’s always whistling through his teeth, getting into his sons’ spaces, and clearly has no problem of his own  _ marking his territory _ has set the house on edge. 

The creeping musk, the tensed muscles, the bubbling aggression— that’s what Stiles is gonna blame this night on. This night where Gael ribs a little too far, where Derek’s a little too jealous, where Stiles is a little too needy. 

They’re in the kitchen, trying to just get through dinner and escape to bedrooms where they can recharge their patience. But even Stiles could hear and now smell that Gael had been edging himself in his room all day— sweat and lube and dribbled pre emanating from his crotch and hands. Which raises Derek’s hackles because it makes Stiles horny. 

He swears he’s not that big of a slut, but he and Derek  _ hadn’t  _ fucked since Gael came to live with them and even if they’d been trending a little vanilla, they were still pretty… exuberant with each other. They were a young couple! And Derek was an alpha wolf! They hadn’t gone this long without it since they weren’t a they. 

Stiles wonders, maybe if just one thing were a little different— if Derek had had a less stressful day at the sheriff’s office, if Gael had managed to get off before dinner, if he, himself, had just gone and visited Derek to bring him a  _ special lunch  _ like he’d been meaning too for a while now.

But all of those things did happen and Gael said “Thanks, sweetheart,” groping Stiles’ ass when he stood too close to server the older man seconds. And Stiles didn’t bite down on his lips to quell the pleased, little mewl that floated out his mouth, and Derek didn’t take a second to breathe— just leaped across the table to tackle them both. 

There was a flailing of limbs, grappling and maneuvering, heated grunts and rumbling growls. Stiles isn’t sure if it took seconds or minutes, but eventually there’s a pin, a stalemate, and when they all take stock, he’s in the middle. 

Derek is reaching over his shoulders to hold Gael to the floor and Stiles is just holding his husband’s weight up, forearms quaking as his face is inches from Gael’s. They all freeze because, at the same time, they all realize they’ve gotten hard. In the tussle, they’d somehow positioned as though both Hale men were trying to enter Stiles, their twin cocks mashed together and pushing at his clothed taint and ass. 

He does his best to try and make up for before, really. Stiles bites his lips so hard the bottom one splits and he tastes blood, but in the end, he  _ moans.  _ Stiles moans, hips juddering as he tries not to rock them between father and son. 

He closes his eyes against the embarrassment, his ears perking at the sounds of animalistically communicative growls, his body being jolted around by more posturing. He thinks he’ll keep them like that until he just dies from the mortification, but after a long beat of nothing, they flash open when the next sound is his clothes tearing. 

All-too-familiar claws just barely knick his skin as they shred through the garments and expose him. Stiles doesn’t have time to register before his alpha’s mouth is on his mating bite, digging into the sensitive flesh to make him cry out, present his hole, quiver with need. Derek’s tongue laves at the skin he’s trapped and Stiles can feel his groan vibrate through the muscle. 

Two cocks start to bump and slide around his entrance, ramming past each other to slick up his crack or down his taint, wetting the hair there with sticky pre. He can feel his face burn at the implication and has to sweep his gaze past his father in law’s face to keep composure, ending up staring at the forest of pubes below him, all three men’s pubic hair combining to obscure little else of the proceedings besides two massive, swarthy sets of breeder balls smothering a peachy, pink pair between them. 

The soft, sweaty skin rubbing together is so sordid, in the moment, that he has to throw his head back, exposing his throat. Derek continues to suck at the mark that defines their commitment, while his father goes for the opening and latches onto Stiles’ adam’s apple, victoriously growling as he wraps his strong arms around the young men on top of him and brings them closer, mashing their torsos as well as their hips. 

They’re all so eager for it, all worked to frothing, they don’t even have the time, nor mind to actually try and orchestrate a real fucking. It could be done, Stiles is sure they all know how. Derek used to share Stiles with his frat brothers like a cheap veggie platter and Gael is quite proud of every sexual exploit he’s ever pulled off— Stiles knows there’s been more than one bragged threesome brought up over the years. 

But there’s no fingers trying to prep him for both cocks, no pulling back to maybe maneuver them all for a spitroast. They’re just frotting against each other in a pile, greedily grinding their dicks against any patch of wiry hair and sweaty skin they can find, using that and their own snail trails as lube. 

Stiles can’t keep track of whose hands are where, which mouth he’s licking into, if the pair of balls slapping against his thighs are the ones he thinks. And they continue to roll across the floor. He tries to just go with the flow as the wolves can’t help but vie for dominance. 

He comes when he’s the one pinned to the floor. He’s flat on his back, chest heaving as he gazes up, head swimming in a fever haze of lust. Gael is on top of him, trying his best to keep up with the younger men as he ruts between Stiles’ asscheeks with fervor, but he’s slowing down, straining not to blow his load. 

Derek is behind his dad, eyes wild, mouth split in a victorious grin. His chest is pressed tight to his father’s back, making the man bow as Derek fucks his cock right against his dad’s hairy, dusky hole. Derek’s hands are gripping his waist, claws just starting to dig in as Gael cries out. Derek’s chest starts to rumble with what’s supposed to be a growl, but it builds and builds and builds into a feral howl as his eyes flash red, the tip of his cock breaches Gael, and the two men beneath him are sprayed with piss as he claims his place on top. 

Stiles’ eyes practically roll back as he loses it, small dick shooting like mad as that old kink flares to life, paired with a new one, the first ever he’s gonna be shy about. Having Derek mark him in such a filthy way just settles something in him, some deep down fissure of worry and desperation that needs the extreme. He just needs to be  _ owned  _ sometimes to feel secure and that’s manifested in this, in finding this play utterly erotic. 

Seeing him let go, Gael follows him over, relief painted across his face as he doesn’t have to try to hold back, coating Stiles in that thick, musky wolf spunk that drives him crazy. The older man leans into his son as he does it, as though showing off, asking for appraisal. One of Derek’s hands drift up to grope at his dad’s pecs, starting to soften with age, and the other slides further down, wrist churning in a smooth rhythm as he milks his dad’s balls, tugging them long and firm to squeeze every drop out onto his mate. 

When Gael is finished dripping, Derek even having pinched at the mouth of his foreskin to make sure, he’s moved aside by a hand in his hair, whining in pleasure as his son manhandles him. He lays next to Stiles on the tacky linoleum, their soft, sticky cocks draped across opposite thighs. “Comfort him,” Derek commands with a snarl twisting his features, staring down his dad and gesturing at Stiles with his head. 

Gael only hesitates a moment before leaning to the side and capturing Stiles’ swollen lips in his own, gripping his jaw to gently open it so they can languidly suck and bite at one another’s tongues. Derek waits and watches for a minute, making sure he’s happy with the treatment, before he turns to his husband’s soiled body. 

His dark, soft hair is matted with sweat, spunk, piss, bruises and bites all over the pale skin. Derek slowly, carefully lowers himself over it, making little, affectionate whining noises in the back of his throat. He noses at Stiles’ soft cock and sticky balls, nuding them around as he inhales deeply and then starts to lick. 

Long, sweeping trails of his tongue start at the creases of Stiles’ thighs, move to his belly, tease up to his collarbone before moving back down. Derek sucks at his navel to get the raunchy slurry out the little well, nibbles on his untouched nipples to make them redden and swell, worries the thin skin on the insides of his thighs to leave more marks. 

He climbs back up Stiles when he is ready, breaks his husband away from his father to share the last mouthful as he drags his cock down Stiles’ own and starts to come in his bush. Gael rolls his eyes at them making pained, adoring noises at each other as they make a mess with the spit and spunk and more, smearing it across their lips and chins. He looks down to where his son is still shooting off, smirks, and then lowers a hand to press behind Derek’s hairy sack, index finger compressing that sensitive bundle of nerves while his thumb slides upward to pressure Derek’s musky hole. 

Derek howls again and Stiles feels his knot pop in his crotch, the flow of come that was starting to ebb now renewing with hot, thick gouts. It’s so hot, he swears he passes out. 

* * *

 

Things don’t get magically easy from there. They don’t just fuck all their problems away, though all three have them have been known to try that very method. Derek and Gael squabble a lot about boundaries. Is the older Hale allowed to fuck Stiles without his mate there?  Should Stiles make these decisions or is it the alpha’s choice? Is it too weird if they just fuck each other without a non-familial buffer? Is Gael allowed to contribute to the piss play or will he take that too seriously? 

The fights go on and on, but they never get back to that furious boiling point again where Stiles wasn’t sure if their fucking might turn to fighting that went rather a different way. They all get frustrated with each other still, arranging a poly situation is hard enough when incest isn’t involved. But they’ve got time to figure it out, if the way Gael saved up to buy a California King for all three of them to share is any indication. 

Whichever way the chips fall, Stiles is just happy to have reached yet a higher plateau with his husband. After that instigating… situation, they sat down and had a long talk about what they wanted, what they needed, what those things meant for them. Stiles was scared about it, but there wasn’t a single moment of backsliding from Derek. 

He should have trusted his mate with this more because it was so seamless. Derek was the same, improved man as ever— his sweet, doting, soft husband— they just got to enjoy some of their favorite, old fantasies on top of that. They were better than ever, looking forward to seeing if they could teach an old dog new tricks. 

Because, as Derek knew so well, sex and intimacy with his mate was a pretty tantalizing carrot on a stick to shape up or ship out. They had a pre-planned road map already laid out before them, knew all the steps to the dance. After all, Gael  _ was  _ so much like his son, he’d just never met a Stiles before to rein all that in.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, also! Don't come at me if you got complaints about Hispanic Hales headcanons. They were fluent in spanish and had ties in Latin America. I, personally, love the idea and every little colloquialism in here was taken from my own, bilingual home life. So please don't even start with me.


End file.
